


how to make friends and family in a parallel universe

by zombeesknees



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU world, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 15:38:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombeesknees/pseuds/zombeesknees
Summary: A Pete's!World Doctor Who fic featuring Rose, Tentoo, Amy Pond — and a couple other familiar faces. Wherein Rose Tyler makes a new friend and certain canon wrongs are righted. | Written many moons ago on LJ.





	how to make friends and family in a parallel universe

Rose didn’t often use the cafeteria at the office—it felt too much like being back in school, and the last time she’d been at school Krillitanes had been fucking with the fabric of the universe. Most days when she had to do actual work at headquarters, she and the Doctor would slip out for lunch; get chips at that great fish place, or pizza at the restaurant floating in the zeppelin off Chelsea Avenue.

But today the Doctor was busy with a meeting and she didn’t feel like going anywhere alone. So she took the elevator down to the cafeteria. There had to be somebody there she knew, who wouldn’t mind sharing water cooler gossip over a wilted salad. It had been a while since she’d had a truly normal, everyday conversation, and it would do her some good to get grounded before the next jaunt in the TARDIS.

Contrary to all expectations, there wasn’t a single face she recognized. But, tray of food in hand, she did find her gaze drawn towards a very eye-catching young woman sitting alone at one of the circular tables. Flame-orange hair spilled over her shoulders in loose curls, pushed back from her eyes by a thin white headband. She was wearing a smart, form-fitting purple blouse tucked into a short gray skirt. Mile-long legs covered in white stockings were tucked beneath her chair, one black boot hooked over the other at the ankle. 

She was holding an apple in one hand and carving into it with a butter knife.

Intrigued, Rose approached her. “Hello,” she said, flashing a toothy smile. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not,” the woman replied with a quick smile of her own, gesturing with the butter knife at the empty space across from her. 

Rose pulled out the chair and set down her tray. “I’m—”

“Rose Tyler,” the woman cut her off, smile widening. She set the apple and knife down and leaned forward, hand outstretched. “Sorry, it’s just everyone knows who you are. I’m Amelia Pond, but feel free to call me Amy. I work in Research and Logistics.”

“Nice to meet you. Been with Torchwood long?”

“A couple years. I’m a legacy—parents were agents. Where’s your better half?”

Rose lowered her glass. “In a meeting, probably with my dad. Does everyone here really know so much about us?” 

In the months since she’d first arrived in this universe, she’d had a pretty bad case of tunnel vision. She’d been so focused on her work, on her family, on the cannon, on finding the Doctor again and warning him, that she hadn’t paid much attention to the other people and projects going on around her. 

And then when they’d come back there had been an adjustment period: coming to terms with this slightly different man who still looked and sounded like her old Doctor, who had his memories and the same love for her, but was harder and sharper around the edges. Who had only one heart to beat against hers, not the two she’d become accustomed to. A man who had to get used to his mortality even as she got used to the fact that _they were together_ , that he wasn’t going to disappear on her again, that they could grow old together. And then the TARDIS coral grew to full size and was ready to fly, and they were jetting off among the stars again—God, how perfect and natural _that_ had felt, just like coming home—with only the required stops back to check in and touch base with HQ. 

It felt strange, but good: having Torchwood as a touchstone for them. Having a bit of outside structure and guidance; no longer were they traveling to wherever the wind took them, following a whim or fancy to see a particular place or time. Now they traveled with a set purpose, acting as ambassadors to other civilizations, investigating crimes and problems that had already happened. And while Rose had loved her previous adventures in time and space, it felt good to have a calling. This wasn’t just falling into and out of trouble—this was seeking it out and preventing it and walking into things with eyes wide open. There were still surprises, of course, but the world had changed, she had grown up a bit, and things were a bit more adult now. 

Not to say there wasn’t plenty of childish fun and adventure to be had, or that they hadn’t made plenty of waves in this universe.

Dame Rose and Sir Doctor of TARDIS: still the stuff of legend. 

And gossip, apparently.

Amy laughed at her expression. “You’re the daughter of the man who basically runs the country, let alone this place. And he’s a guy from another universe who has a police box-shaped spaceship. Of course we know all about you.”

“Technically, I’m from another universe, too. And it’s a time machine _and_ spaceship.”

The ginger woman laughed again, shaking her head. “You know, even after working here for months — after Cyber invasions and alien contact and all of that — sometimes I think I must be dreaming. Or crazy. I have to pinch myself. It’s like something out of a fairy tale. Far too good to be true.”

Rose nodded. “I feel the same, sometimes. Incredible how amazing the world really is, isn’t it?” She poked at her salad, eye falling back to the apple at Amy’s elbow. “What were you doing to that?”

She picked it up and turned it to show off her handiwork. A lopsided face smiled at Rose, the edges beginning to brown. “Something my mum used to do,” Amy said wistfully, her Scottish burr becoming more pronounced. “I hated apples as a kid, so she’d put smiley faces on them.”

“She sounds nice. My mum’s never been much in the kitchen; she just used to borrow my lippy.”

\-----

“Dad, do you know that cute ginger who works in Research? Amy Pond?”

“Amelia, yes,” Pete said distractedly, rifling through the stack of files on his desk. “...Although don’t tell your mum I acknowledged that she’s cute. What about her?”

“I met her yesterday at lunch—she seems really nice. What’s her story?”

“Hmm.” He dropped the files and straightened in his chair, staring up at the ceiling for a moment while he thought. “You know, I’m not entirely sure. She started working here not long after I became director. I’m sure we’ve got her records in the system, though. Any especial reason why you want to know? She's not an alien saboteur-slash-mole in disguise, is she?”

“No, nothing like that," Rose said quickly. "I'm just curious.”

“Well, let’s see.” He leaned forward and tapped a few keys on his computer. “Here we are. Looks like her parents were agents several years ago. Died in a terrible accident at a factory they were investigating; still a bit unclear as to what caused it... She was just a girl when they died—she went to live with an aunt. When she finished school, she sought us out.”

“God, that’s terrible.” It had been bad enough growing up without Pete, with only Jackie’s stories of him and an album of pictures. She thought about the apple; wondered how many of them Amy had drawn faces onto when her mother was no longer there to do it for her.

“She’s got a brilliant head on her shoulders. First class researcher. Knows more about history than most uni professors. Bit of a firecracker from what I've heard. Seems to keep to herself, too.” 

When Rose glanced up she found Pete looking at her intently. It was a very fatherly expression; and for all that she called him Dad, and he acknowledged her as his daughter, they still had a rather tentative relationship. She, at least, had memories of another Pete Tyler, wearing a crumpled suit and being impossibly brave in front of an old stone church. She’d had bedtime stories for years, and those aforementioned photos. He’d gone a whole lifetime never being a father; had lost a wife only to regain her, and in the bargain had gotten a full-grown daughter, too. A whole family in one fell swoop. 

Coming to terms with that took time.

But he was still Pete Tyler, for all that in this universe he’d been a success from the start, had had money and power and influence and had never known what it felt like to try to eke a meager living out of a small flat in the Powell Estate. Success hadn’t changed him all that much; he was still a dreamer and a bit mad and open to some crazy ideas, including daughters from other dimensions. His heart was big enough to make room for her—and for the crazy loon with the great hair who preferred to be simply called the Doctor.

And, perhaps, for lonely orphans, too.

“Amelia has always struck me as a very nice girl,” he said. “But a bit sad, though she tries to hide it. She could probably use a good friend.”

\-----

Perhaps Amy _was_ lonely, but that didn’t stop her from taking the initiative. When Rose returned to her office it was to find a note taped to her door.

_If you’re interested, I was planning on going to the new Van Gogh biopic Saturday night at the Castle Theatre. We could do drinks after. Feel free to bring your space man.  
Amy~_

Her phone number was scrawled beneath her name, and Rose grinned as she programmed it into her mobile.

\-----

“Good thing I wore my waterproof mascara,” Amy said, dabbing the sleeve of her jacket over the tear trails on her cheeks. “Knew I was gonna cry like a leaky faucet. He’s always been my favorite painter—the things he did with color and texture…”

“That poor, beautiful man,” Rose agreed, sniffling. “It just feels so _wrong_ — that he died like that, that he never knew how beloved his work would be…”

The Doctor nodded, brow furrowed. He rubbed his thumb across the back of Rose’s hand. “You know,” he began thoughtfully. “Perhaps—”

A loud crack of thunder drowned out whatever he was about to say. All three looked up at the ominous black clouds. The zeppelins overhead were battening down the hatches, several sinking quickly to their rooftop mooring posts

“Blimey,” Rose said. “Let’s double-time it to the pub.”

They darted through the doors just as the sky opened up, dumping a torrential downpour over the city. Several others followed on their heels, evening shoppers forced to put their window gazing on hold until there was a break in the storm.

Pints in hand, they wound their way through the press to a small table tucked into the corner. 

“So, Amelia,” the Doctor said brusquely. “That’s a great name, that is—you don’t meet a lot of Amelias any more. In fact, I think I’ve only met the one other. Earhart. She had a wicked uppercut.” He rubbed his jaw at the memory.

“Please, call me Amy. Amelia’s a bit unwieldy. Amy Pond’s got a better ring to it, I think.”

“Thanks for the invite tonight, Amy,” Rose said. “I was actually going to give you a call before I saw your note, see if you wanted to do anything this weekend.”

“Wasn’t sure if you’d still be in town—seems you two are always jetting off somewhere. Rose tells me that police box of yours is a _time machine_ , too?”

“The TARDIS can go just about anywhere, anywhen,” the Doctor said with audible pride. “It’s been interesting: going back and seeing how the history of this universe is slightly skewed from that of the last. There are a lot of commonalities, of course. But—for instance—can you imagine Harry Potter ending with Harry surviving the second killing curse? Marrying Ginny and having a bunch of kids?”

“What?! No! I mean, Harry’s sacrifice was so important! And Neville rallying the troops afterwards, the DA taking down Voldemort together, was such a brilliant ending!” Amy sipped her beer. “I’m glad I’ve always lived in this universe.”

“Yeah, and the Torchwood there was pretty shite, too,” Rose added. “Abusing their power. Treating their agents like they were expendable assets rather than people.”

“Well, I think it helps that your dad is such a good director,” Amy said loyally. “Those video newsletters he sends out each week are _hysterical_. I still remember those commercials he used to do, back when I was a kid. Sorta surreal.”

“Rose said you work in Research,” the Doctor said. “D’you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s good. I’ve always been a history nerd—the Roman Empire, Cleopatra, ancient Egypt, the Tudor court. I loved writing papers in school. Read everything the library had. I’ve been working a lot with the Artifact division lately, tracing alien weapons and figuring out when they first came to Earth. That dig at Stonehenge last year—I got to be there when they opened the tomb, and that was just… Wow.” She grinned brightly. “Stepping into a room nobody had been in for centuries... Looking at the pictograms carved into the walls, seeing that alien sarcophagus with my own eyes. Nothing else has ever given me a buzz quite like that.”

“My Dad mentioned you were thinking about putting in for a transfer, though. For more field work?”

“Yeah. I dunno, I think it’d just be a nice change of pace. It’d be fun to get out there for a while. See the world. I’ve always wanted to travel and have some adventures, like my parents did.” A cloud passed over her face and she looked down at her glass. “They disappeared when I was seven. Went off to work and never came back.”

“I’m sorry, Amy,” Rose said quietly. “I know what it’s like to lose someone. To grow up with that big empty space in your life.”

“Things turned out alright for you, though, in the end, huh? Meeting this bloke. Saving the world. Seeing the stars. Not a half-bad life.”

“Better when you can share it with other people, though,” Rose said.

\-----

They were having a girl’s night in. A stack of silly rom-coms on the coffee table. Their comfiest jim-jams. Bowls of popcorn at each elbow. They’d torn the cushions off the couch, strewn pillows across the floor, and draped a bed sheet over everything.

Amy had appeared on the front step of the bungalow two hours earlier with her arms full of fruity wine bottles. “First time I ever had to use a cart at the shop,” she’d announced proudly. Donna, the new front desk secretary, had arrived not long afterwards with a giant chocolate cake. She still seemed a little surprised that the director’s daughter and Torchwood’s most talked-about agent were being so friendly to her; her luck had really turned around since that morning Torchwood approached her with a job offer, snapping her up from what had been a boring temp job at a law office. 

But after a lifetime of dealing with her shrewish mother, it was nice to spend time with women who genuinely liked—even appreciated—her. 

The cake had been reduced to crumbs, Rose was debating on the next movie, and Donna had slipped into the hall to take a phone call from her husband. Amy drained the last of a bottle and promptly picked up the next.

“Donna’s husband seems really nice,” she said. “I met him the other day, when he stopped in to bring her the lunch she forgot. Average-looking, but sweet. Looks at her like she’s a goddess. Get the feeling not many people have looked at her like that before.”

“Which is a shame, because she’s amazing,” Rose said with a bit more heat than she had intended. She was thinking about giant black beetles and jerry-rigged teleporters; a selfless soul hidden behind a brash exterior. “My old world wouldn’t exist without her.”

“Ah.”

“Ah what?”

“Ah nothing. I just… I think it’s great. That you and the Doctor look after people. Help them out because they deserve it. You’re… righting the cosmic balance, I guess. Karma in action.”

“…I will. Love you, too. Kisses.” Donna plopped down onto the bank of pillows, tucking her mobile back into her bra. “Sorry about that. He’s such a worrywart.” The sting was taken out by the dopey grin on her face. “Honestly, I managed relatively fine on my own for thirty-nine years before he came along and now he thinks I can’t go a night without him.” 

“It’s sweet, though. Shows he misses you,” Rose grinned, rummaging in the popcorn bowl.

“He does, bless,” Donna said fondly. “But enough about my barmy husband—Amy, do you have a gent?”

“No,” she said nonchalantly, stretching her arms over her head until her shoulders popped. “There was this guy that I grew up with—Rory—who was crazy about me. But he was a bit of a wet blanket, honestly, and I don’t have the patience to be constantly smothered. I’m fine with being a singleton for now. It’s not like I’ve got this crazy urge to settle down any time soon. How about you, Rose?”

“What about me?”

“Come on now,” Amy coaxed with a sly grin. “Spill the deets. We’ve all been dying from curiosity: are you and the Doctor gonna make it official any time soon? Will we have to paint JUST MARRIED on the TARDIS before you jet off for a honeymoon on Saturn or something?”

“When you’ve been through everything we have, just being together is enough.”

“Oh, boo,” Donna said, tossing popcorn at her. “You can’t honestly say you haven’t been thinking about a spangly white dress and fancy flower arrangements—your Doctor might be a skinny little string bean, but I bet he looks nice in a black tux.”

“No tuxedos,” Rose said quickly. “Bad things happen when he wears tuxedos.”

“Sweetie, I think bad things would happen regardless of what he was wearing. Even if he was starkers,” Amy said knowingly. “He’s like a lightning rod for trouble. And you like that about him: admit it.”

“It’s never boring, that’s for sure,” Rose said. 

“I don’t know how you handle all that madness,” Donna said firmly, swirling her wineglass. “All that running and jetting off across time and space—just catch me doing something that crazy. Especially with that thin bit of nothing with hair like a rooster. What? What’s so funny?”

Rose tamped back the laughter and waved a hand. “Nothing, nothing…”

“I mean, I like seeing the world,” Donna went on. “But I’m fine with sticking to this one. Me and Shaun went scuba diving in Tahiti on our honeymoon. And last summer we did this big tour where we went to Pompeii and Athens and Rome—bloody brilliant. I always thought stuff like that’d be boring, all maps and schedules and sunburnt noses. But having Shaun with me, having a hand to hold, really made all the difference. We’re talking about doing Egypt next. Going and seeing the pyramids.”

“Wish I had the funds to do something like that,” Amy sighed longingly. “Fingers crossed that my transfer goes through and I’ll get assigned somewhere exciting. Although, knowing my luck, I’ll end up back in Scotland." 

“…Do we do _Bridget Jones’s Diary_ next or the new _Pride and Prejudice_ with Idris Elba?” Rose asked.

\-----

She was handing the Doctor—half-visible under the TARDIS console—a spanner when her mobile went off. It was an unknown caller ID, and she answered it with some trepidation. “Rose Tyler speaking.”

“Miss Tyler, this is Dr. Martha Jones at Holy Mercy Hospital—”

“Oh God, what happened?! Is it my dad? My mum? Did something happen to Tony?”

“Don’t worry, Miss Tyler—I’m calling on behalf of Amelia Pond. She was involved in a slight fender-bender this morning and was admitted for a head and neck scan. She has a mild concussion and a sprained wrist; nothing worse than that. I’m calling because Miss Pond has no next of kin in the area and listed you in her contact information. I’m sure she’ll be completely fine, and there’s no need to admit her overnight, but I would prefer if she was in the company of someone else for the next several hours.”

“Alright, okay, yes, absolutely, Dr. Jones,” Rose managed to say breathlessly, heart still thrumming painfully fast. “I’ll be there right away.”

“Did you say Dr. Jones?” the Doctor demanded as he scrambled to his feet.

“We need to get to Holy Mercy Hospital. Amy was in a car accident.”

“She’s okay, though?” 

“According to her doctor.”

“This being Dr. Jones? Dr. Martha Jones? At Holy Mercy Hospital?”

“Yes, that’s what she said—”

“Like that classic Earth folksong, it truly is a small world after all,” the Doctor grinned his madcap grin and flipped the lever.

\-----

“I must say, I’m surprised at how quickly you got here,” Dr. Martha Jones said—sharply dressed in black slacks and a silk blouse beneath her white coat, hair in tight cornrowed braids and gathered into a bun in the back—as she glanced at them over the edge of Amy’s file. “Must’ve been just down the street.”

“Yes, something like that,” Rose said. “How’re you feeling, Pond?”

“Bit woozy, bit bruised. Dr. Jones here gave me some awesome painkillers, though—but I can’t use them for the next six hours.”

“Have to make sure that concussion doesn’t have any complications,” Martha said sternly, though the corner of her mouth twitched in an aborted smile.

“How did you even get into an accident?” Rose demanded. “Don’t you usually take the tube in the morning?”

“I was running late—had to call a cab, and then that prat rear-ended it and sent me here.”

“Well, next time you need transport, just give us a call. That way it won’t matter how late you were.”

Martha glanced over at the Doctor, who was staring at her with unabashed delight. “…Do I know you?”

“Maybe in another life,” he said, rolling on the balls of his feet. “Oh yes, something like that. How long have you been a doctor, Dr. Jones?”

“Four years. Did I hear correctly—you’re a doctor as well? What of?”

“Everything, really. Eternal student of life, that’s me. Like it here? This a good hospital?”

“Ye-es… I swear, I feel like I’ve met you before. You’ve never been a patient of mine before, have you?”

“Nope. Definitely not. Hardly ever sick, me. Constitution of a horse. Fit as a flea. Strong as an ox—humans sure do have a lot of idioms about animals, don’t they?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Martha said with narrowed eyes. “...Well, your scans all look good, and if you wear that brace for the next week or two, your wrist should be just fine. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call or walk in.” She leaned over and handed Amy her card.

“Anything?” Amy echoed with a smile. 

“ _Anything._ Hope your day ends on a better note than it began with, Amy. It was nice meeting you, Miss Tyler. Doctor…”

“Just Doctor will do, thanks.”

“Uh-huh. Good afternoon.”

“Wow,” the Doctor said with a crooked smile as they set off down the hall. “Dr. Jones. Saving lives and pursuing her passion.”

“She was the one on the computer network,” Rose said, making the connection. “The one with that Key device—”

“Yup!” He was positively bursting with pride. “She helped reshape UNIT almost single-handedly. Defeated the Master with a story. Shakespeare wrote sonnets about her—”

“I can believe that,” Amy said. “She’s _gorgeous_. And it’s obvious she’s brilliant — you should’ve seen her giving orders when they rolled me in; she was like a general marshaling an army.”

Rose fixed her with an appraising look, eyebrow arched. “Amelia Pond, you sound almost smitten.”

“I’ve got eyes, don’t I? I wonder if she’s single…”

“Too bad you didn’t give her your number.” Rose punched the button for the elevator as Amy looked down at the card in her hand.

“…Rose, do you believe in fate?”

“Why?”

Amy held up the pale cardboard rectangle. Written in a firm hand beneath **DR. MARTHA JONES, M.D.** was a mobile number—and a smiley face beside the words **CALL ME SOMETIME**. “…Because I think I do.”

\-----

“I’m really glad,” he said as she adjusted the duvet, tucking the blankets more snugly around them.

“About?”

“That you’ve got friends again. That _we’ve_ got friends. It’s… reassuring.”

“It is, isn’t it?” she said, slipping an arm around his waist. 

“I’ve still got all the memories,” he went on quietly, heavy-lidded and relaxed. “I remember nine hundred years… All those planets… All those names and faces… But it also feels distant. Like something from a dream. I can’t feel the turning of the world any more. I can’t hear the stars singing at night. And sometimes that’s painful; like a missing limb that should have grown back. I feel heavier somehow—like gravity’s got a proper grip and won’t let me go. There used to be this empty space beneath my ribs, between my hearts, that kept me floating. Kept me running. But it’s gone now.”

“Or maybe it’s just been filled with something else,” Rose murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. “You’re different because that’s how it had to be, don’t you think? The other you, he never could have been content with what we have here. A steady job. Schedules and appointments.”

“A mortgage,” he whispered teasingly.

“Technically, Dad gave us this place, but yeah.” She paused. “Is it terrible? Do you regret staying with me?”

“No,” he said without hesitation, when the words had hardly left her mouth. “It’s just different. It’s just something to adjust to. And you know, for a man who’s worn so many faces, change is still something I have a hard time coming to terms with.” He paused to comb his fingers through her hair, drawing out the long blonde strands. “I like Amy a lot—she’s got real spirit.”

“We’ve been spending an awful lot of time together—you’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, no, course not,” he said. “I don’t want to monopolize your whole life, Rose. It’s good that you’ve got friends. That you’ve got a real family again.”

“You’re family, too,” she said. “You’re my family.”

He was silent for a long time, chest barely rising and falling with breath, and she knew he had to be thinking about his other family: the one he’d lost. For so long he’d been defined by the absence of one—no wonder it was so difficult for him to reconcile the emotions that came with having one again. To rearrange the chambers of his heart—when he could still remember having two—and make room for Jackie and Tony and Pete, even for people like Amy and this world’s slightly different Donna… 

Families were, after all, what you made of them, not only what you were born into.

\-----

“You’ve done really exemplary work, Amelia,” Pete said. “Research won’t be the same without you. But far be it from me to keep someone in a position they don’t want to stay in—”

“Please, sir, don’t think that this is any reflection of dissatisfaction. I love my job. I love coming to work every morning. I just want a bit of a change. Someday I might even ask to be reassigned back to Research.”

The director smiled at her, and for a fraction of a second she could almost imagine her own father standing in his place, proud of her and giving her his blessing. “I understand. There comes a time when you just need to break a pattern and try something new. Alright—your transfer’s been approved. Come Monday you’ll begin training for fieldwork. Until then, I suggest you enjoy your weekend.”

“Thank you, sir,” she smiled.

\-----

Her fingers paused in mid-text at the now-familiar sound of whirring engines. Brushing back the red strands that had blown into her face, she looked up as the TARDIS materialized in the courtyard just feet away from her bench. “…I was just about to text you. Was your Spidey sense tingling?”

“Dad called me and told me the news. Congrats!”

Amy stood for the hug, face bright as sunflowers. “I hope I get to go somewhere exotic right off the bat—well, after I finish training, anyway.”

“Yeah, about that,” Rose said, tongue peeking from between her teeth. She glanced back at the Doctor, leaning against the doorframe with a smug smirk on his face. “How about a trip or two? Anywhere—anywhen—you like. We can even swing by Martha’s and see if she’s up for a ride. It’d be a nice double-date.”

“Really? Seriously?”

“Really seriously. It’ll be great practice.”

“Practice?”

“Sometimes we get assignments that are a bit tricky for just the two of us,” Rose said nonchalantly. “And, well, I _may_ have mentioned something to Dad over a family dinner a couple weeks ago, about how handy it would be to have another agent who’d be a good fit and could go with us sometimes…”

Amy threw her arms around her neck again, squeezing her so tightly she squeaked, bouncing on the tips of her toes. “Oh, Rose! That sounds perfect! Me—traveling in time and space, with Rose Tyler and the Doctor! Somebody pinch me; I must be dreaming!”

Rose obliged her, eliciting a squeal. 

“So, Amy Pond,” the Doctor said, holding open the door. “Where would you like to start?”


End file.
